


Death By Pussy

by Adamarks



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: F/F, Ice Cream, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Swimsuits, fem!SnowBaz, heat exhaustion, pussy!!!!!!!, we eating PUSSY babes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adamarks/pseuds/Adamarks
Summary: It’s hot hot hot day, and Baz is too slow eating her ice cream.-Inspired by the song Ice Cream by MIKA
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 17
Kudos: 122





	Death By Pussy

**Author's Note:**

> Suggested listening- Ice Cream by MIKA on constant repeat

She sure does take her sweet bloody time eating, doesn’t she? 

I polished mine off in six bites or so. (I should’ve gotten four scoops instead of two. Would’ve slowed me down.) Baz is casually licking away, like there’s no rush in the world. Like the fire orb in the sky isn’t out to destroy her double scoop of “death by chocolate” as fast as possible. She’s not even down to the cone yet. It’s going to be hot soup by the time she’s done with it. 

(Is chocolate soup a thing? No, wait, that’s just hot chocolate. What makes one thing a soup and something else a drink anyway? Chunks? Tomato soup doesn’t have chunks, though. Is tomato soup just warm V8—)

A bead of sweat dribbles down my tit. 

It’s a scorching thirty-seven today. I’ve been lurking in the pool since I woke up in an effort to keep cool. Baz has been rubbing me down with sunscreen every hour in an effort to keep my skin from sizzling off my bones. 

She’d come out with ice cream cones for us fifteen minutes ago, and any chlorine-filled moisture left on my skin has evaporated, leaving me to sweat like a pig as Baz waits for a fucking written invitation to finish her cone. 

I guess I could get back into the pool now. Nothing’s stopping me. 

Baz’s tongue smooths over the side of the melty chocolate.

Nothing. 

It drips over her fingers and she rushes to catch it. She slurps at the edge of the cone. My mouth is dry. 

_Nothing at all._

Another drop oozes down the back of her hand. I lick my lips. It’s hot. “You’re dripping,” I say dumbly. 

“Yes, Snow. I’m aware,” she snaps. She twists her hand and I get a clear cut view of her tongue licking up her hand, a wet trail left in its wake. 

Baz hasn’t been in the pool as much as me. She’s still sorta wet, though. Her chest where her one piece isn’t covering is shiny with sweat. Her forhead looks a bit moist. 

_Salty..._

She takes a big bite off the top of her scoop. A bit of chocolate gets lost on the corner of her mouth. 

_Sweet…_

Two more drops make their escape from the cone. 

My pool chair creaks as I stand up. 

Baz flicks her eyes up to me. “Getting back in?” 

I lean down and brace my hands on either armrest. She raises an eyebrow at me. I lean forward, towards her cone. 

“You’re dripping again,” I mumble and lick the ice cream off her fingers. 

I look her right in the eyes as I take a gigantic lick off the top of the cone. 

“You had your own, Snow,” Baz says. Her eyes are hooded; her tongue pokes out to touch her bottom lip. 

I dart forward and kiss her. I move too fast and awkwardly, though. Cold Death by Chocolate smacks against my chest. _(Oops.)_ I ignore it and go after the bit on the corner of her mouth. 

The kissing goes pretty well aside from that. (Well, Baz’s tongue is in my mouth and her free hand is scratching at my buzzed scalp, so _I’m_ happy.) Until Baz squeaks and pulls back. 

“Bloody _hell_ that’s cold!” 

I look down to see melted ice cream dribbling down her hand, all over the front of her swimsuit, and finally a few drops slowly traveling down the curve of her thighs. My tongue comes out to touch my bottom lip. 

Baz starts sitting up, and I press her back into the seat. 

“I’ll get it.” 

“Simon—“

I go for the drops on her chest first. It tastes like chocolate and chlorine as my tongue drags over her swimsuit. The material feels weird to lick— like, too smooth and too rough at the same time. 

I make my way across her chest, laying an open mouthed kiss on her sternum where her swimsuit opens. It blessedly doesn’t have cups, so I run my teeth over her nipple through the material. 

One of her hands is tangled up in my hair. Something cold keeps dripping onto my shoulder. The sun is scorching. 

I lick a long stripe over the droplets on her stomach, my nails scratching over her bare hips. This is a really fucking good swimsuit. 10/10. High cut and low cut in all the right places. Cool lacing stuff here and there. The only edits I’d make are for the crotch and tits to not be covered up. (I guess that defeats the purpose of a swimsuit.)

I look up at Baz’s face as I clean up the mess on her thighs. Her lips are wet and hanging open. Her forehead has gotten sweatier, strands of hair sticking to her face. _She’s stunning._

I hum and bite her inner thigh, letting my cheek brush against her pussy. She sucks in a breath. Her hand tightens its grip on my hair. I vaguely register something hitting the concrete. 

I move up and nose at her pubic bone, panting against her crotch. My mouth is watering; my lips are brushing against her labia. Then I remember: _hand._

I look up to see her one hand coneless and still covered in ice cream. With one long swipe of my tongue along her pussy, I move up to clean off her fingers. 

Baz whines and tries to shove my head back where she wants it. I have to pry her wrist back a bit to sit up. 

“Hold on, I need to do your hand yet.” 

She huffs and rolls her eyes (dramatic). “Heaven save me from the curse of trying to get laid by a giant tease,” she grumbles. 

I snort. She acts like I edge her for hours every time we fuck or something. 

I grab her messy hand by the wrist and give the palm a long, slow lick. Her clean hand meanders around to start messing with the strings on my bikini top. My tongue travels up her forefinger, and I suck the tip into my mouth just as she gets the top tie loose. 

I go through each finger, licking up, taking them into my mouth, running my tongue along the sides. Baz makes swift work of my top and starts fondling my tits. She pinches a nipple especially roughly and I moan around her middle and ring fingers. 

Slowly (seductively…? “Seductive” is such a dorky word. Only Baz could pull off that adjective.), she pulls her fingers from my mouth. A string of spit is suspended between the tips of her fingers and my tongue. She keeps pulling away, and it breaks. 

I watch as her glossy fingers journey into her own mouth, her lips sealing around them as she sucks. My mouth is hanging open. You’d think I wouldn’t feel _dumbfounded_ every time she does something hot after so long together, but here we are. 

As soon as her fingers are out, I pounce. It’s a sloppy kiss. A lot of spit and tongue and sweat. Our breaths feel like a furnace blowing on my face. 

It’s not long before I start moving back down her body, my hand grinding against her crotch until my mouth can meet its destination. 

I kiss her stomach, then her thigh, then her lips beneath her swimsuit. She’s burning hot. It makes me lightheaded. 

I mouth at her clit and press my fingertips against her opening through the fabric. When she rolls her hips I back off, making her chase my mouth. She makes this bratty noise and shoves at my head until I relent and put my mouth back where it should be. 

Baz tries to push away her swimsuit for me, but I grab her hand and tear it away. She can wait. _It’s not like I’m trying to eat her out through jeans._ I give her clit a good suck through the cloth to prove my point. (Not that we were even arguing about it.) (Or were we?)

_“Simon,_ come _on,”_ she bitches. 

I lick around the line of her swimsuit, letting my tongue dip just under the hem, but no further. She squirms and wraps a leg around my shoulder, but I’m deadset on being a dickhead today, apparently. I start leaving featherlight kisses across her crotch, moving down her crack. 

I flick my eyes up to Baz’s. It’s pretty fucking hard to keep a straight face when I see her giving me a death glare. 

“Simon.” 

I press my lips to her clit. “Hmmmm?”

“Get _on_ with it.” She digs her heal into my sweaty back. 

I press my tongue into her vagina as far as the swimsuit will allow and scratch my nails against the back of her thigh. 

Her hips buck up. She starts pouting. _“Please.”_

I start grinning. _Heheh, I won._

Y’know, maybe I _am_ a tease. 

I finally push the swimsuit aside and start slathering her with attention. I hook her other leg up onto my shoulder and give her a hard suck that has her moaning. 

It’s nice to just be tasting Baz instead of the added chlorine and detergent. Baz’s clit also doesn’t scratch against my tongue weirdly. 

It takes approximately no time at all before Baz has me by the back of the head and is grinding against my mouth. 

I really like it when she fucks my face. It feels pretty good in my book, aside from my jaw cramping sometimes. She has the reigns, so I feel like I can just chill out for the most part, enjoy the ride. Also, she’s fucking _hot_ when she’s rough. 

It’s still boiling out, so between her, the sun, and the fact that Baz isn’t giving a gal much time for breathing, I’m starting to feel a little light headed. I start weighing my options. 

_Option One: pull off and tell Baz I need a quick time out._

Yeah, no, I can tell she’s getting close. This isn’t a real solution. Why did I even consider it? 

_Option Two: death by pussy._

There sure are some worse ways to go, I’m gonna be honest. I mean, if I really think about it, it’s probably on my top ten preferred ways to die list. 

It might upset Baz, but maybe the post-orgasm haze will lessen the blow. 

Suddenly her movements turn jerky, and she grips my hair to hold me still. There’s a squeak, and then a moan as she starts shaking in my arms. I may be on the verge of death, but I still moan along with her. Dying while making the love of my life cum is a privilege. (And kinda sexy.)

It gets to be too much and she shoves my head away. It makes my vision spin and my brain slosh around in my skull. I’m starting to get queasy. Christ, I’m not sure anything is worse than barfing after eating your girlfriend out. We’re _not_ letting that happen. I know Baz’s standards are low, but that’s gotta be too awful, even for her. 

Without warning, Baz is grabbing me and hauling me up towards her face, and I—

-

“Simon! _Simon!”_

I’m horizontal now. Baz is leaning over me, her eyes look wet. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Now she looks sorta pissed. “You fainted!” 

“Oh,” I say. “I’m hot.” 

She gives this little huff of a laugh, but in that humorless _it’s been a long day_ sort of way. “Yes, you passed out from heat exhaustion.” 

“Ah. Sorry.” 

She snorts and drops a kiss onto my forehead. Her lips are comparatively cool. It feels nice. 

She sits up and takes ahold of my hands. 

“Come along. You need to go inside now,” she says, gently pulling me up. The rest of Baz’s cone lays sadly ruined on the concrete. There’s still chocolate ice cream all over my chest. (I wonder where she threw my top…)

I lick my lips as she helps me into the house.

_Guess I’ll die another day._


End file.
